


all the nightmares

by phantomlistener



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Time War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlistener/pseuds/phantomlistener
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the last days of the Time War come to a close, fugitives from Rassilon's regime shelter from the destruction - and a decision has been made....</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



> _Look out my window what do I see_  
>  _A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me_  
>  _All the nightmares came today_  
>  _And it looks as though they're here to stay_  
>  \- "All You Pretty Things", David Bowie

She stands proud, Amazonian, the sky reflecting fire on to her ragged blonde hair.  She says nothing.

There is nothing left to say.

There is nothing left at all.

The Citadel lies in ruins, the plains are barren, and the trees are burning.  The Doctor can’t tell which of those is worse, which image pierces closest to his hearts, but by far the most terrible is that of his Lady President – his _Romana –_ looking out in wordless horror over the devastation of her world.

He can’t bear the silence any longer and lays a soft hand on her shoulder, which trembles beneath his touch.  “You did everything you could.”

“I could have done more,” she says.  “More than simply _running away_ to safety.”

His fingers rub gentle circles across her shoulder and he spells out his secrets on to her body.  “You’re all the hope we have, Romana.  We need you alive, not dead to some noble, pointless act of sacrifice.”

“But there’s nothing more to do.”  She steps forward, towards the window and its horrifying, impossible view, and his hand falls uselessly back to his side.  “Countless millennia, Doctor, and I’m the President who allows Gallifrey to fall.  I think perhaps I’ve _done_ enough.”

“Romana-”

“This is all my fault.”  Her face is still turned away from him, one hand rubbing uselessly at the side of her neck.  “If I hadn’t been so proud, so convinced of my own importance….  How could I ever have been so _naïve_?” 

“You’ve done a magnificent job, Romana.  You truly have.” The Citadel smoulders, clouds of smoke curling up in to the sky.  “You’ve been marvellous.”

“Oh, quite.  _Marvellous_.”  Her eyes squeeze shut against the destruction; the room itself is silent around them but her head echoes with memories, the harsh grating of Dalek voices in darkness, the cries of the dying, the shiver of weapons hitting the failing transduction barrier.  “And it’s all turned out _so_ well.”

The Doctor almost laughs.  “It’s not your fault.”

She turns fiercely to face him.  “That’s easy for you to say.  You’ve never stayed in one place long enough to understand _consequences_.” 

“I’m here now.”

“Yes.”  Her voice softens.  “Yes, you are.  And I’m sorry, Doctor, I truly am, but I need to ask you to leave.  One last time.”

There’s a sudden horror in his eyes, but before he can say anything the door opens, the sound of machinery and low voices drifting in from the corridor beyond, and an indistinct figure approaches.

 “Ah, Chancellor Narvin.  Just in time.”  Romana offers him a ghastly smile, bloodless and twisted.  “We’re about to finish the war.”

“I thought as much.”  He very carefully avoids looking towards the window.  “Madam President….”

“I think that title has somewhat lost its meaning.”  Now that she’s said it, now that she’s truly condemned Gallifrey, the strength seems to flow back in to her body.  “It seems pointless to stand on ceremony, Narvin, given the situation.  Gallifrey is lost.  Our only hope – the _universe’s_ only hope – is to destroy both sides now, before the damage worsens.”  She lays a hand on the Doctor’s arm, lifts the other to his face and runs her fingers across the deep lines furrowed in his skin; he looks centuries older than he did a minute ago.  “As your rightful President, Doctor, I am asking you to do this for Gallifrey.  As your friend…do it for me.  _Please_.”

He can’t speak.

He nods, once, tightly, and presses a desperate kiss to her forehead.

“Your TARDIS is outside,” she says, her voice almost inaudible.  Her eyes flit to Narvin and back again and then she reaches up and kisses him, barely any pressure at all, and stands back.  “Everything ends, Doctor.  The only choice we have is in the method, and this…this is a _good_ end.  Remember that.”

There’s a second of silence before he refinds his voice.  “You always did like to ask the impossible.”

One of her hands presses against her mouth, stifling something that’s either laughter, a sob, or both, and Narvin takes one protective step closer to her.  She composes herself.  “Go now, Doctor.  You know what to do.  And…” she takes a moment to consider her words.  “I do love you.”

“As do I.  As _will_ I, forever.”  He bows, moves to leave.  “My Lady President… _Romana_ …goodbye.”

At the door, he looks back.  Romana and Narvin stand with their backs to the window, haloes of fire spilling out around their bodies, angels of destruction against a backdrop of ruin.  They’re holding hands.

He smiles, and turns away to the future.


End file.
